Trauma Center: Happy Hour
by Crazy Girl Person
Summary: Tormenting your coworkers has never been this much fun!


Trauma Center: Happy Hour

Dr. Tyler Chase cracked his knuckles as he paced around the room. His shoes made a distinct clack against the tiled floor, which echoed softly in the quiet. He circled a small area of the room before stopping abruptly. In a fluid motion, he thrust his arms outward, palms exposed and fingers sprawled.

"Behold! This invisible wall that I do hold! Evil forces may brush against, but they cannot penetrate what is not to be seen."

His voice carried itself in strong, rhythmic beats, but was held with considerate softness so as not to disturb those outside. Another series of sharp footsteps answered his cry. Dr. Derek Stiles slowly approached him, cradling a steaming coffee mug in his hands. He stopped to take a slow sip, closing his eyes as he indulged the taste. Once his thirst was sated, he withdrew the mug from his lips and a gentle sigh followed.

"So much depends on this dark morning brew." He began, his voice smooth and steady. "Life is breathed into the senses, washed away just as the sun's rays cast back the night's curtain. And yet, as I stand tall as the early crane, I am run through with a double blade. Awakened, too, is a fiend from within. One who's presence is known only through a bowl trembling roar."

"Oh good _God_!" Victor yelled. "Stop! Just stop already!" Derek and Tyler shared a glance, breaking free from their serene poses before turning to face their heckler. "What? You don't like our poetry in motion?" Tyler asked.

"No, I don't." Victor seethed through his teeth. "I really, really don't."

"Aw, c'mon. It can't be that bad. We're just trying to make you feel better."

"I would _feel better_ if you would just go away and leave me alone!"

"Don't you at least want to see Angie ribbon dance her way into your heart?" Derek asked.

"No – wait. What?"

Angie leapt into the scene on an unspoken queue. She delicately gripped a silver wand in her left hand and a long, pink ribbon fluttered from its tip. "Oh no. . . not you too, Thompson!" Victor gripped his sheets tightly, as if it would protect him from his insane co-workers. Angie responded with a radiant smile and her body fell into a fluid movement of twists and spins. Derek and Tyler stepped back to give her room and attempted to maintain an indifferent look. Under the combined amusement of Victor's reactions and the normally professional nurse twirling like a junior high gymnast, they were doomed to failure, though Derek managed to hide his smirk and laughter behind his coffee mug.

"This reminds me of when I was a little girl, running through the endless dandelion field of Frankfurt." Angie sighed. "How I miss Germany."

"Nurse! _Nuuuurse_!" Victor frantically hit the call button as his verbal pleas went unnoticed. Tyler turned and placed a hand over his mouth in an attempt to conceal a chuckle. He barely succeeded. "What's the matter, Victor? Do you need more pain killers?"

"Angie just needs to put more into it." Derek said. "Dance better, Angie!"

"Dr. Clarks! Chief! Anyone!" Victor gripped the call box desperately, all but yelling directly into it.

"Hey, how about we _all_ do our interpretive dance?"

"_Help meeee!_"

"Oh for Pete's sake!"

The four young men and woman looked towards the source of the voice. Stephen Clarks stood in the doorway and cast them each an authoritative glance. "Victor, calm down. You sound like they're killing you."

"If this isn't murder, I don't know what is." Victor grumbled.

"I knew having Angie dance was a bad idea." Derek said, earning an instant ribbing from the mentioned nurse. "Hey! Don't spill my coffee!" Dr. Clarks sighed, shaking his head slightly before crooking a thumb towards the door. "All right, you three. Hit the road."

"Leslie liked my interpretive dance." Tyler mumbled as they made their exit.

"Yeah, I bet she did." Derek smirked, earning a smack in the head. "Gah! Coffee!"

Dr. Clarks sighed again as they disappeared from vision, their bickering slowly fading away as well. He placed his hands in his coat pockets and approached Victor's bedside. "I swear, you kids are nothing but trouble."

"What did I do? They were the ones tormenting me." Victor crossed his arms, resuming his indifferent nature now that the immediate 'threat' was gone. "And I'm not a kid; I'm twenty six."

"Twenty six is nothing. You're barely a fledgling, kiddo."

Victor growled quietly but otherwise tolerated the taunt. "At any rate, thanks for getting rid of them, Dr. Clarks."

"Oh, I'm not Dr. Clarks." The man said, a deviant smirk cutting his expression. His fingers dug into his midsection, casting off his flesh and revealing . . . "I am Krondar the Invincible!"

"Dookie poop!" Victor gasped. Krondar grasped the young scientist by his hair with one hand and chuckled malevolently. "Now, eat thy burrito, pitiful mortal!"

"No-eth!"

-----

Angie jerked awake, blinking as she looked around. She found herself seated in a cramped plane seat with Derek slumped over in sleep just beside her. She yawned and stretched, recalling that they were on their flight back to the United States from Britain.

"That was a weird dream." She mumbled, and then shrugged slightly to herself. "Oh well . . ."

She collapsed back into her own seat, snuggled up to Derek and slipped back to sleep.

-----

"Curses! I almost had him!" Krondar yelled, raising his arms to the Heavens. "I'll get you next time, Niguel! Next time!"

**The End . . .?**

-----

A/N: Um . . . yeah. I . . . uh . . . yeah. I don't get it either. I was _really_ bored when I wrote it this morning. I was working on chapter four of Paying the Price but I ran into a bit of writer's block. So I thought I'd open a blank Word document and just write . . . and . . . this is what came about.

So . . . Victor's evil arch nemesis tries to force feed him Mexican food, I guess. Bet he could've used Tyler's invisible wall then, huh?

Disclaimer: Derek Stiles, Angie Thompson, Tyler Chase, Victor Niguel and Stephen Clarks are owned by Atlus.


End file.
